


A Long Weekend in New Orleans

by sabcatt



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Briefly Implied Child Soldiers, F/F, Gun Violence, Inspired by Mr. Right (2015), Inspired by a Movie, Kidnapping, Lighter than the tags suggest, Love at First Sight, Mildly Graphic Violence, Minor Injuries, Mostly fluff though, fluff and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 06:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabcatt/pseuds/sabcatt
Summary: After a disastrous breakup with her long-term boyfriend, Barb Larvernor isn't exactlylookingfor love. But when she (literally) runs into the beautiful Tatiana Slozhno, she can't help but be drawn to the charming Russian assassin.Meanwhile, Owen Carvour is in charge of tracking down his rogue former partner for the CIA, and Curt Mega just wants his mother to lay off for a bit.





	1. Prologue: Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween, dolly! here's a violent, fluffy multichap, custom for you and fresh out of the oven!!
> 
> for the casual reader, do mind the tags. the "ensemble" covers (in order of appearance) Vladimir Poopin, the Informant, Susan, Cynthia Houston, and Prince Feurgin himself. tragically none of them show up for more than a few lines, so they don't get their own character tags.
> 
> i do promise that this is MOSTLY fluff, i just wanted everyone to be aware that there also happens to be a lot of violence in here. take care of yourselves, and enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting.

  
`Los Angeles, CA`  


A knock on a hotel room door.

The door was opened by a tall Russian man wearing far too many layers for the season.

“Mr. Poopin?” the visitor asked.

“Yes, I am he,” he said. “What is it you need from me?”

“Nothing,” the visitor said, “that you can provide. I only wish to bring you a reminder.” She inclined her head, very slightly, very briefly.

Vladimir Poopin glanced downwards and saw the familiar shape of a silenced pistol grasped in the visitor’s hands.

“A reminder of what?” he said, tense.

“Your crimes. You have done much wrong. I am here to make you pay.”

“My crimes? And what of yours? You will murder me and walk away with conscience clear?”

“No,” said the visitor. “But at least I will walk away.”

The gun made a sharp _crack_ and Vladimir collapsed onto the thick carpet. The last thing he saw was a pair of elegant flats headed down the hallway, away from where he lay.


	2. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong.

`New Orleans, LA`

Barb danced around the kitchen, kicking off her flats and humming along to the radio as she worked.

She had been expecting to stay in the lab all day (once again), but her advisor had let her off early and told her to “take a break” and “relax some, it won’t kill you”, so here she was, preparing a surprise dinner for her boyfriend of several months, Allen.

The door opened, and Barb spun around, grin wide on her face, ready to greet him.

Instead, she was met with the sight of Al locked in a passionate embrace with Susan.

* * *

“I just can’t believe you’d— and Susan— ugh!” Barb said.

Al had the decency to look mildly sheepish. “I’m sorry, babe, it’s just that with you in the lab all the time it feels like there’s not any room for intimacy in our relationship! Really I know I shouldn’t have, I’m just the worst, but a man has needs, after all.”

Susan said nothing. This whole situation was a clusterfuck; if they had known Al was in a relationship, they would never have responded to his flirting in the first place.

“I’m sorry, I just— I just can’t deal with this right now, with you, like this. I’m— I’m ending this. We’re done. We’re over.”

“Aw, come on, babe, you gotta know I love you, let’s talk about it, come on.”

Barb rolled her eyes. “No. I’m grabbing my stuff and I’m leaving. Don’t bother texting. I’ll see you around, Susan.”

Susan gave an awkward wave as Barb gathered up the meager collection of her belongings that had taken up residence in Al’s downtown apartment. She shoved them into a milk crate (why did they even have that?) and marched out the door.

* * *

`Los Angeles, CA`

“—And don’t fucking bother coming back until you have her!” Cynthia terminated the call.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Owen muttered to himself, then spoke to the rest of the men currently assembled in the back of the van. “All right, men, listen up. The target is highly skilled and incredibly dangerous. Do not engage unless you have a clear opening; if she sees you, remove yourself from the situation as quickly as humanly possible. I cannot emphasize enough how much you do not want her to pin you as a threat.”

A general grumble of assent went through the gathered men. Some of them agreed with Owen’s suggestions wholeheartedly, having heard stories of their target before, but others weren’t so easily convinced.

“Ah, why not?” Dick Big, one of Owen’s least favorite coworkers, said. “I ain’t got no interest in pussyfooting around when I could be neutralizing this crazy commie faster ‘n green grass through a goose.”

“Director Houston’s orders, Big. I’m just the middleman.”

That wasn’t strictly true, but Owen wasn’t going to carry on this conversation any longer than he absolutely had to.

“And it’s on account of that you won’t be coming with us?”

Owen fought the urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I’m coordinating this one, not serving as a field agent. Plus, in the event that she does simply kill all of you, someone has to return the van. Equipment Services gets mad when we don’t bring back their expensive vehicles.”

“All right, all right, I see,” Dick said, with an exaggerated wink that said he clearly did _not_ believe Owen’s justifications.

That was fine with Owen. As long as he didn’t have to go up against _her_ in her own territory, he’d be fine. No matter how much of an absolute wanker Dick Big was.

“Any other questions?” Owen made sure to inject his voice with as much ice as possible, hoping to end the mission prep and get the agents on their way as soon as possible.

Nobody said anything.

“Very good. Remember your instructions: do not engage unless it’s absolutely necessary. Now, go, go, go!”

The men eagerly hopped out the back door of the van. Owen slid up to the front seat and put on a headset.

“Charlie, this is Bravo, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear,” came the reply. “Target heading towards exit. Looks like she’ll be taking the elevator; just in case, Team Tango is watching the stairs, Uniform on the elevator.”

“On it how.”

“In it.”

_God, idiots. Not_ in _the elevator. You’ll be sitting ducks._

“Belay that action. Belay Uniform, repeat, belay.”

The sound of shouting and flesh hitting flesh filled Owen’s ears, along with some cracking and grunting.

_Never mind, then, I guess._

“Uniform, respond. Uniform!”

“They’re out of commission for… the foreseeable future, Delta.”

A cry of “there she is!” came through the headset. Owen leaned downward and rested his head on his keyboard. _Hopeless. They’re fucking hopeless._

“Target headed for west ballroom; it’s being set up for some sort of event.”

Owen sat up and pulled up one of his (many, many) sheets of mission-relevant info. “Wedding reception. Watch out for any civilians.”

“Copy that.”

A few moments of blessed silence passed.

“She’s behind the cake! The cake!”

The men were murmuring among themselves, surrounding the perimeter of the ballroom and waiting for the target to show herself.

Unseen in the van, Owen dragged his knuckles along his forehead. “You idiots… if she’s by the cake, she’s by the knives.”

* * *

The wedding cake was toppled, a tragic monument to the afternoon’s events. Owen surveyed the scene: two of his men were dead of stab wounds and another had a knife buried— was that _through_ his sternum? She had clearly been practicing.

Only two of his squadron had survived; a rookie whose name he didn’t know, who hadn’t made it inside the ballroom, and Dick fucking Big.

The rookie was getting medical attention but Big was down for the count, probably from being whacked in the head with the fire extinguisher that lay on the floor next to him. For a moment, Owen almost envied the target; she’d gotten to do what he’d spent many a briefing wishing he could. Perhaps there were some benefits to being a free agent after all.

“All right, clear everything and then pack it up, we’re done here,” Owen announced to the room at large. “And for the love of God, would one of you pull your socks up and call Langley, let them know she got away and we need to figure out where she’s going, _now!”_

* * *

`New Orleans, LA`

“I just don’t know where we went… why I wasn’t good enough for him…” Barb sobbed into Curt’s shoulder.

Curt poured her another glass of wine.

“I always hated him,” he offered. It was true.

“And— and— and— _Susan!_ It’s not like Susan is… so much more interesting than me. They’re a _secretary._ A _top-secret secretary._ That’s boring! You can’t talk about _that_ at dinner!”

Curt hummed in absent agreement.

“I could be interesting! And interm— intit— intimate! I could— I could make bombs!” With that final word, Barb downed her glass and set it back in the coffee table with more force than strictly necessary.

“Woah, I’m gonna stop you right there. No bombs, Barb.”

Barb groaned, clearly disagreeing.

“No bombs! No,” Curt said.

Barb moaned some more, but acquiesced. “No bombs,” she mumbled, but it came out more like “nm mmm”.


	3. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first date occurs.

`New Orleans, LA`

_Nnnnnnnnnnnngh, ow._ Barb was wallowing in her hangover misery and also doing her best not to look at anything in particular; the fluorescent lights of the Rite-Aid were painfully offensive to her hungover brain.

Her thoughts mostly consisted of _why? Advil. Why doesn’t Curt have any advil, he gets hurt often enough, dumbass. But why Susan? Why? Advil. Ugh, drinking—_

She collided with a redhead wearing a large, floppy straw hat and a cute patterned sundress, spilling her precarious pile of painkillers and new toiletries all over the linoleum floor.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—“

“Ah! Here, let me help—“

Their voices overlapped and then awkwardly cut off as they made eye contact. The redhead was frozen, a deer in the headlights, and Barb wasn’t doing much better.

_She’s beautiful,_ Tatiana thought. The woman in front of her had blonde hair cut in a bob that many would say was démodé, but on her it served to emphasize her square jaw and pointed chin. She wore purple cat-eye glasses with rhinestones embedded in the outer corners of each frame, and although her eyes were slightly squinted against the daylight, they held a spark in them that drew Tatiana in, igniting within her a desire to know more about this mysterious stranger.

“I’m— I’m so sorry, let me just— how did you do that?” Barb asked, staring at Tatiana’s hands in amazement.

Tatiana looked down, and saw what Barb was looking at; none of her items had even hit the floor. Instead, they were stacked in Tatiana’s hands, as if she’d been the one to collect them from the shelves of the store.

“I have always had good reflexes,” she said. “Although,” she added sheepishly, “not good enough to not run into you. But I am glad for that. That I ran into you. Metaphorically, not that I knocked your items out of your hands. I mean, I am glad that I met you. You are very beautiful.”

Barb blushed and stuttered.

Tatiana’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth briefly with one hand before speaking again.

“I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable. It is just… I do not quite know how to say, but you… glow. I would like to get to know you.”

Barb wordlessly pointed at her own chest. _Me?_ she seemed to be asking.

“Is that too forward? I am sorry. I do not know the social norms very well. Would you go on a date with me?”

Barb’s mind was racing. _A date? Me? With her? Why would she be interested in me? She’s so elegant and beautiful and I’m so… me. Does she really mean it? She must, why would she lie? But does she? And right now? Today?_

Finally, she said, “Um, sure! I don’t have anything else planned for this afternoon! I can show you some local sights, if you want to do that?”

“I want to do whatever you will enjoy,” Tatiana said.

Barb flushed even more; it seemed like this woman was _made_ to flatter and spoil her. And she didn’t even know her name!

“I’m so sorry,” she said, sticking out her hand, “I didn’t even introduce myself! I’m Barb. Barb Larvernor.”

The woman grasped her hand and shook it. Her grip was strong and warm. “Tatiana Slozhno,” she said. “A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.”

Barb paid for her painkillers, and Tatiana walked with her back to her and Curt’s apartment. She waited outside the building, which reassured Barb that she probably wouldn’t turn out to be some sort of crazy stalker since she was willing to let Barb keep her exact address a secret for now.

* * *

“I just feel like, I’m the crazy one, you know? Like, I know he cheated on me, it’s completely his fault, but what if it _was_ my fault somehow?”

The two of them were wandering through the City Park, taking in the sculptures visible through the fence and enjoying the shade.

Tatiana nodded. “It is easy to feel responsible for others’ actions to you; harder to think that there is nothing you can do to make people not hurt you. To know that you did you best— in your heart.”

“Awww, gosh, Tatiana. You’re so— sweet! And smart. I’ve been talking a lot about myself today…” Barb laughed, a little awkward. “About my breakup… not exactly great first date conversation. I’m sorry…”

“No!” Tatiana hurriedly assured her. “I do not mind, I promise. I want to know you, and this is important to you. It happened recently. I understand.”

Barb felt her doubts shrink a bit, like a sample of _staphylococcus haemolyticus_ retreating from a glycopeptide. “But still,” she said. “Tell me about yourself. You know about me! What do you do?”

Tatiana gazed past a nearby tree, mind drifting.

“Oh, this and that,” she said. “For my work, I travel. I just came in from LA yesterday.”

“Oooh, sounds fun! I’ve lived here my whole life… it’s not so bad, but I do wonder what it would be like to stay somewhere else for a while.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I… don’t know, really. I have to finish my PhD. This is where my grants are, and my advisor. Oh, gosh, I’ve been out of the lab for… nearly a week now, I should really—”

“Oh, Barb, don’t think about going back to work right now! It is a beautiful day. Let me enjoy it with a beautiful woman and not worry that she is going to leave me for her research.”

“Sorry… you’d give my research a run for its money, for keeping my interest, for what it’s worth.”

There was a long pause, and Barb went to explain, fearing Tatiana felt she’d been insulted.

“I mean… I love my research! And I don’t— I mean, I don’t know you very well yet, so I wouldn’t say I love you, but I think… maybe I could? But what I meant to say is, I think you’re interesting. Like my research is! I didn’t mean to insult you, so please don’t be insulted, it was a compliment…”

She trailed off.

“I understand,” Tatiana said, utterly charmed by Barb’s earnest rambling. “I know what you meant. It was… very kind of you to say.”

Barb flushed. Tati kept… _saying_ things like that, and she didn’t know what to do. Instead of facing her feelings, she glanced around the park, praying for a distraction. All she saw was a gazebo standing next to a lagoon.

“Um… What do you say we go to the insectarium? I hear they have some, uh, cool spiders.” _Ouch. Nice one, Barb. That’ll charm her for sure._


	4. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encounters with friends and acquaintances.

`New Orleans, LA`

The next morning found Barb in the kitchen, brushing the metaphorical cobwebs off her cooking skills.

Curt came in and immediately stiffened. Barb hadn’t used the stove to make breakfast since the first week after she’d met Allen. This was a bad sign.

“Hey Barb,” he said, cautiously.

The smile she turned on him was positively blinding.

“Good morning Curt!” Barb practically chirped.

“...Yeah,” he mumbled. “Food?”

“I’m making omelettes! Also pancakes. With chocolate chips.”

_Oh god, she’s pulling out the chocolate chips._

“So… did you do anything fun yesterday?”

Barb rolled her eyes at him, the gesture undercut by the grin that remained fixed on her face.

“Of course, silly! I met a girl. Tatiana. She’s… amazing.”

_Fuck. It’s a rebound. Abort mission._

“And you’re sure you’re not just…” Curt trailed off meaningfully.

“Not just what?” Barb said, oblivious.

“You know, um. Using her to get over Al.” _That dickhead,_ Curt mentally added.

“Curt, how could you! I wouldn’t do that to someone like Tati!”

Curt grimaced. _Nicknames already?_ Definitely _a rebound. Barb doesn’t do that._

But how to say it tactfully? “It’s not about… you doing anything to her, it’s more… you…”

“I what?” Barb asked. She was getting a little tired of Curt dancing around whatever it was he wanted to say, and of him being so disapproving of her going on one date with someone who wasn’t even official with her yet.

“You have a tendency to idealize people, and I’m worried that she’s gonna turn out to not be as good as you think she is and you’ll get hurt, okay?”

There. Now he’d said it, gotten it out in the open.

Barb looked at him in shock for a moment, then shook her head and turned back to the stove.

“Well, Curt,” she said, “I don’t see why that should be any concern of yours. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices.”

“I know you are! That’s not what I meant. I just… don’t want to see you get hurt, especially not so soon after your last boyfriend cheated on you _because-he-sucks-and-I-just-want-to-say-I-did-warn-you.”_ Curt mumbled through the last part in one breath.

“Yes, thank you for that, Curt, it’s not like you haven’t already reminded me that you’ve always hated Al’s guts. But people tell me ‘I told you so’ don’t get chocolate chip pancakes or extra-cheesy omelettes for breakfast.”

Curt weighed his options. He made a decision.

“I’m sorry! Won’t bring it up again. Tasty food, please?”

Barb served him with an indulgent and smug look on her face.

“And just so you know, I’m going on another date with her tonight. We’re having dinner together, so I won’t be here this evening, and I’m not interested in hearing your opinion on it.”

Curt looked appropriately chastised and finished the rest of his breakfast without mentioning it again.

* * *

The restaurant fell near-silent when Tatiana entered. She cut a stunning figure in a purple sheath dress, pearls shining around her throat and eyeliner artfully smudged.

But Tati had eyes only for Barb, who to her was the best-looking person in the room. Barb was slightly out of her comfort zone, perched on the edge of a bench in the front seating area, hands constantly smoothing out the skirt of her floral print dress. She’d put on lipstick for the date, a color and brand Curt had selected for her sometime last year.

She felt self-conscious of her glasses; even Curt thought they were a little old-fashioned, but they were the only pair she owned. Tatiana didn’t mind; to her, they showed Barb’s character, her unapologetic willingness to be herself, and to hell with what anyone else might think.

“You look amazing,” Tati murmured to Barb as a waiter led them to their table.

Barb smiled, shy and yet somehow blooming at the compliment. “You too,” she said.

They conversed over appetizers. Barb told stories about funny things that had happened in her lab; Tatiana talked about various places she’d visited. The list was immense: Japan, Serbia, Argentina. Somalia and Pakistan. Her favorite food was from a particular street vendor in Ukraine, her favorite landmark was the Grand Canyon.

“I was a young child in Soviet Russia. To me, the most impressive teenagers were the _stilyagi._ They were… rebels? Punks. They dressed in American styles and listened to contraband American music. It was… I admired them, and was impressed by them. I wanted to be like them.” She was silent for a long moment.

Barb let her reflect, and then gently prompted her. “And then?”

“I grew up, of course,” Tatiana said with a laugh. “Soon enough everything was different anyway. The Soviets fell, and it was not as rebellious to consume American culture. But I am still fascinated with cowboys.”

Barb grinned at the admission, but something in Tatiana’s face quickly tightened.

Dick Big was gazing at her from the bar. He flicked his eyes toward the back door and downed his drink.

“Speaking of cowboys. I am so sorry, I just realized I have something I have to attend to. I will only take a little bit; if our food arrives, do not wait for me. It is no good to let food go cold. I will be back.”

She rose and pressed a quick kiss to Barb’s cheek, then hurried to follow Big out into the rear parking lot.

* * *

“Took you damn long enough,” Big said.

“I am so sorry to have kept you waiting,” Tatiana responded venomously. “It was not as if I have _anything else to be doing.”_

Big raised his hands. “Woah, reign it on in there, cowgirl. I just wanna talk.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, no,” he admitted. “But I thought I might offer you the chance to surrender, afore I whoop your ass and drag you back to Langley myself.”

Tatiana barked out a harsh laugh. “I am sure you will try.”

“Now, there’s no shame in admitting when a man’s got you beat, missy,” Big said.

“And you are so sure you will have me beat, Mister… what was it? Needle Dick?”

“Oooh!” Dick doubled over in faux pain. “Kitty’s got claws! Still no match for this cowboy, though. But seein’ as I’m a true Southern gentleman, I’ll let you have the first move. Even the field a bit, as it were.”

“Very well,” Tatiana said, then struck out with her leg.

Big dodged and reached for the gun at his belt. Tatiana whirled and caught his arm in her hands, yanking, but he swung a knee at her torso and she retreated. Big drew his gun, aimed and shot, but Tati had already ducked and drove her shoulder into his stomach. The gun fell to the ground with a clatter and Big wheezed, attempting to catch his breath, grabbing at Tatiana’s forearms and pulling, forcing her to twist to escape his grip. He reached into his booth and drew a knife.

“Fucking cowboys,” Tatiana muttered.

Big spun the knife in his hand, reversing the grip. He swung at Tatiana. She stepped away, circling around his left side, and then, viper-quick, caught him in a headlock. He flailed with the knife, but she jabbed a thumb into his wrist and easily took the knife from his loosened grip. She hummed for a moment, thinking, and then plunged the knife into his heart.

Still behind Big, she dragged his body backwards, then released it into a pile of trash bags laying around the restaurant’s dumpster.

Tati grabbed the discarded gun and, flicking the safety on, tossed it into the dumpster as well. She smoothed her hands over her hair, examined her hands and the front of her dress.

Before she walked back in, she cast one last glance at Big’s body. “You are lucky you did not bloody me. I have a date.”

Back at their table, Barb was staring blankly at her silverware. Was this just Tatiana’s way of leaving without making it awkward? It was awkward. For her, at least. Tati could just… jet off to wherever she was going next, doing whatever it was that she did. Barb would be stuck here, and could never come back to this restaurant, because they’d all see her and know her as that woman whose date left before they even got to the main course.

Tatiana sat down across from her, a smile back on her face.

“Oh!” Barb said, pleasantly shocked out of her spiralling reverie.

“I am so sorry,” Tatiana said. “I saw… a rather unpleasant acquaintance of mine, and had to encourage him to leave me alone. I did not mean to worry you, or to make it seem like I had planned on leaving.”

“That’s okay,” Barb said. “Who… were they, if I may ask?”

“Ah,” Tatiana said. “That is the funny part. He was, at one point, a cowboy.”

Barb snorted. “I’m sorry! That he was… annoying. But it is funny.”

“Yes, it is,” Tatiana said.

* * *

Curt glared at Tatiana, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. “I just think it’s funny,” he finally said, “that not even a week has passed since you broke up with Al— Al was her last boyfriend, you know, turned out he was cheating on her, they’d been together for _months—_ and you’ve already found someone new? Who seems frankly too good to be true?”

“Curt—” Barb tried to interject.

“No, Barb, I am doing a shovel talk right now, okay? Let me have this. After this, I’ll shut up about it, I promise. But you— Tatiana— if you hurt her, on purpose or accidentally, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”

Tatiana looked rather too amused for someone being threatened. Barb was fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands.

“I understand,” Tatiana said. “And I swear I will never purposefully or knowingly cause Barb to come to any harm.”

Curt glared a moment longer, then relented. “Good enough,” he pronounced. “Now you two lovebirds get on with— whatever it is you’re planning on doing. Just don’t be too loud. I live here too, you know.”

“Curt!” Barb squawked.


	5. Sunday, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt has a long morning.

`New Orleans, LA`

Curt was in the kitchen when Barb finally dragged herself away from Tatiana, who was really much more cuddly than her waking demeanor suggested.

He winked at her, exaggeratedly, and then pointed to the landline phone sitting on the counter.

“Morning, Mrs. Mega,” Barb said.

“Good morning, Barb!” Mrs. Mega’s voice came from the phone. “Curtis here was just telling me how you’ve landed yourself a brand new lady friend, and so soon after that nasty Al broke up with you! Well done, sweetie. I always said, never give a man more time than he deserves, and anyone dumb enough to cheat on you doesn’t deserve a single second of your day. But enough of my yattering! Tell me _everything.”_

“There’s not much to tell, really,” Barb said. “We’ve only been on a couple of dates. She spent the night—”

She was cut off by simultaneous “oh?”s from both Megas.

“Not like that!” She protested. “We didn’t sleep together! Well, we slept. Literally slept next to each other. Nothing else. She’s cuddly. Don’t tell.”

“I’ll take it to my grave,” Mrs. Mega promised. “Curtis, I have to go now, work is calling, but let me know if you need anything! And when are you going to bring a nice Jewish boy home for me? It’s always you telling me about Barb, never any romance for yourself! I want a son-in-law to spoil, Curtis, and then you wouldn’t have to complain that I’m overbearing.”

Curt looked at Barb with an expression of _you see what I have to put up with._

“Yes, Mom. I’m working on it, I promise.” _Absolutely not,_ he mouthed at Barb. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I love you.”

“Oh, Curtis, I love you too. Goodbye!”

“Bye, Mom.”

Curt slammed the phone back into its cradle.

“That poor phone,” a voice said from the doorway to Barb’s room.

“Tati!” Barb said. “You’re up!”

“Oh God,” Curt said, downing the rest of his mug in one go.

* * *

“No, really, it is nice. I am not… close with my family. It is sweet to see how much your mother cares,” Tatiana said over a steaming mug piled high with whipped cream. She had opted for hot chocolate over coffee.

“Well, at least someone appreciates it,” Curt said. “Alright, Barb, I’m sorry. She’s okay, she can stay.”

_“She’s_ right there, Curt! Be nice!”

“It’s okay, Barb. He means well. And like I said… I do not have much family, or any close friends. I am glad you have someone looking out for you.”

“See? She’s glad. Your girlfriend likes me, so you _have_ to be nice to me,” Curt said.

* * *

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Owen said, “if we, as an agency, could go _one day_ without some genius or other going _haring_ off on his own and getting himself killed?”

Nobody in the room spoke.

Up on the projector screen, news footage of the discovery of Dick Big’s body in the parking lot of a New Orleans restaurant played silently.

“Director Houston is not particularly happy with any of us,” he continued. “As of right now, this case is officially high priority, and overseen by the Director, _personally._ So I expect every single one of you to be on your very best behavior, or I will be very, _very_ unhappy. And if I am unhappy, I can promise you that each and every one of you will be downright _miserable._

“From now on, anyone who disobeys _my direct orders_ gets desk work for a year. At the inside. Anyone who underestimates the target will not need any correction, because if you do that, you will be _dead._ We are doing this as exactly by-the-book as we possibly can. Any questions?”

Silence.

“Good. Technical Surveillance will let us know when we have eyes on her. In the meantime, I expect everyone to maintain a state of readiness. Understood?”

A low chorus of “yes”es was the response. Owen nodded; he wasn’t satisfied, not after the shitshow this mission had been from the start, but it was nice to have the people working under him properly terrified for once.

* * *

Curt was terrified. Barb and Tati had left after breakfast, Barb to her lab and Tati to whatever her job was, and then some wacko with a weird accent and a gun and a _godawful bowl cut_ was knocking on his door, demanding that he “tell us where your girlfriend is and what she’s doing”.

When he couldn’t do that, the man had tied him to a kitchen chair and muttered something about _she’ll be here soon enough if she cares about him at all._

The door literally had a rainbow painted on it. Was he not making it clear enough that he was gay?

(Yes, he was focusing on the wrong things. But he was panicking. Really badly. It was allowable, in this situation, to wonder where exactly this man had acquired his accent from, because the alternative was to wonder why he had a gun and the only likely answer to that one was “to shoot someone with” and that was _not_ a train of thought Curt could really handle dealing with right now.)

Wenger Borschtit, for his part, was also not having a good day, although his day was not quite as bad as Curt’s. First he had been woken up at an ungodly hour in the morning by another one of Baron Von Nazi’s temper tantrums; frankly he didn’t understand why Feurgin kept him around, except for something about funding and inheritances and family history.

Then, he had been dispatched to find and detain the new romantic partner of acclaimed international spy, assassin, gun-for-hire and now rogue agent Tatiana Slozhno, which seemed to him like an excellent way to get killed. But Feurgin had asked for him specifically, or so Von Nazi had said, and Wenger was nothing if not loyal.

The door to the apartment slammed open. Wenger spun around, ready to stall Slozhno long enough to let her know exactly how much blackmail material Chimera had on her,  
but instead of a redheaded Russian in casual clothes ready to greet her boyfriend, he was met with what looked like a SWAT team in full tactical gear.

The team stormed the apartment, reporting each empty room as they searched. Eventually, they handcuffed and removed Wenger from the building, leaving a shaken Curt to talk with the (don’t think about how hot he is, don’t think about how hot he is) lead agent.

“So. Uh.” Curt began.

“I’m Officer Owen Carvour, with the CIA,” hot guy— Owen— no, Officer Carvour— said.

“You sound British,” Curt blurted out, then mentally cursed his lack of filter. _“You sound British”? Way to state the obvious, dumbass._

Thankfully, Officer Carvour looked amused instead of annoyed.

“That I do,” he said. “Now, I’m sure you’ve had a very trying day, but I need to ask you a few more questions about what just happened. And in return, any questions that you ask me that I can answer, I will.”

“Do you usually pull out the full SWAT team for one crazy guy tying up some rando in his apartment?”

Officer Carvour looked slightly sheepish. “Well, simply put… no. We were actually surveilling your building in search of someone else, you and… Wenger being here was just a… an unfortunate coincidence.”

“Great,” Curt said flatly.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“No,” said Curt, “just get on with it.”

Owen wished he could take his words back, reassure Curt that he wouldn’t let him come to any harm if it was at all possible— but what was he thinking? He was here to capture a dangerous criminal, not coddle random civilians, no matter how attractive they were.

“Very well. Are you aware that Tatiana Slozhno has been in your apartment multiple times in the last two days?”

“Uh, yeah,” Curt said. “She’s dating my roommate. Well, starting to. As of, uh, yesterday, or so. Why, is she in trouble? Wait, shit, is Barb in trouble? I promise she hasn’t done anything, I fucking told her she was gonna wind up on a watchlist— um.” Curt grimaced.

“Barb— that’s Barbara Larvernor, your roommate?”

Curt’s lips were thin, his eyes wary. “Yes.”

“She’s not in any trouble, but she may be in danger. Has... Ms. Slozhno told you much about herself?”

“Uh, no, I mean, not me in particular. She… said she doesn’t have much family, or any close friends. I don’t know, we only really talked at breakfast today, and last night, when I threatened her. But not in a bad way, just a like, if-you-hurt-her-I’ll-hurt-you friend kind of way. Oh god, I’ll stop talking now.”

Owen had to fight to restrain his grin, then remembered what he was here to do, and suddenly it became very easy to keep his face settled in a grim mask. “Well. I’m sorry you have to learn this from me, but Tatiana Slozhno is a wanted criminal. She’s been implicated in several very high-profile murders in multiple countries; we at the CIA have been tracking her for a number of months.”

Curt covered his mouth with his hands.

“It doesn’t seem like your friend is in any particular danger from her, but… Slozhno is volatile and highly dangerous, even when unarmed. Her movements are unpredictable.”

Curt focused on his breathing. _This is fine. Barb will be fine. Tatiana seemed to really like her. She promised she wouldn’t hurt her. But she could have lied. God, it’s not like I could do anything about it, if she decided to… she must have been laughing at me so much last night. Oh god, I threatened her, what if she’s angry with_ me? _Fuck. Fuck…_

“Mr. Mega?”

He jerked back to reality at the sound of Officer Carvour’s voice.

“Mm?”

“Are you all right? I understand it’s a lot to take in. Rest assured that we are doing everything we can to protect Ms. Larvernor and make sure Slozhno is brought to justice.”

“Yeah…” Curt said, lost in thought.


	6. Sunday, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong, again.

``

`New Orleans, LA`

Barb was thinking about her lab. Specifically, showing her new _girlfriend_ around her lab. So she could be forgiven for walking straight into Curt when she opened the door to their apartment and he was just standing _right there._

“Curt!” she whined, then looked up.

It was not Curt.

_Oh, fuck._

“Terribly sorry, Ms. Larvernor,” Owen said, “but there’s some things you need to know about your girlfriend.”

Curt had already heard everything that Officer Carvour told Barb, but it didn’t get any easier the second time. He watched as Barb grew stiffer and paler, looking utterly wrung-out by the time Carvour finished his speech.

“Are you— are you sure?” she finally asked, voice small, eyes wide.

“Very, Ms. Larvernor,” Owen said. “I know this must come as a shock to you, and I truly am sorry. It can be— very difficult, to discover that people in our lives are not who we thought they were.” It certainly had been for him.

“Yeah…”

Owen was wincing internally at the sadness displayed on both Larvernor’s and Curt’s— Mega’s— faces. _Idiot. Don’t get attached. Remember how well that turned out last time._

Meanwhile, Barb was slowly sinking into a panic. “I need to— I have to go outside,” she said. “I’ll— take a walk, clear my head, I don’t— I’ll be right back.”

She stood up and turned to leave, but Officer Carvour rose and placed himself in front of the door.

“I’m really terribly sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

“You— I— What?”

Curt just groaned and lay his head in his hands.

“As a witness in this case, you are in protective custody of the CIA. I have lost enough agents on this case, I will not lose a civilian to carelessness as well.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can and I will, Ms. Larvernor. If I have to arrest you to keep you from running off and potentially getting yourself killed, then so be it.”

His voice was cool and deadly serious.

“Al— alright, okay,” Barb said. She re-took her seat at the table.

A painful silence settled in for a long wait.

“Do you think…” Barb trailed off, looking at Owen.

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think I’m… in danger… from Tatiana? Would she… hurt me?”

Owen sighed. “I… you have to understand, this is very… unusual behavior for her, or someone like her. She’s trained in espionage, has been spying and killing for entire adult life. She simply doesn’t… do relationships like this. The only interactions she has with people are…” _sparring together, and then laughing as they lie panting on the mat afterward. ‘Do svidaniya, Tatiana.’ ‘Au revoir, Carvour.’ Her face scrunched up, trying to lick ice cream off the tip of her nose. Later, that same expression, this time in fury. ‘I will no longer be a pawn, to anyone. I am leaving. You will not stop me.’ He had tried, but she’d been right, in the end._ “...Business. Making contracts, or carrying them out. Frankly the fact that she chose to interact with you is… extraordinary. And the level of connection you two seem to have…” He paused for a long moment, thinking. “I wouldn’t have expected her to be… capable of it. Or… willing, to express that level of vulnerability to another person.”

She never had with him, after all. Even when they were partners; but then, he hadn’t exactly been the most open to anyone, either. Still wasn’t, if he was being honest with himself (something he did as rarely as he could). The fragmentation of their relationship had been messy and miserable for both of them, and it stung that Tatiana seemed to have recovered so much better than him.

“So I’m bait,” Barb said, flatly.

Owen sighed. “Yes,” he admitted.

* * *

Tatiana took a deep breath in and sighed over the bouquet in her arms. The pink and red roses smelled better than any flowers she remembered. Of course, it had been a long time since she’d made any romantic gestures like this, but secretly she thought that it was because they were for Barb, whose mere existence made everything better.

She walked up the steps to Barb’s apartment, while, unseen in a black car further down the street, Baron Von Nazi peered at her through a pair of binoculars.

“Zere she is,” he said. “Soon, ve vill have ze deadliest woman in ze vorld vorking… for me!” The man in the passenger seat glanced at him. “Ah, und our most esteemed leader Feurgin, of course,” Von Nazi quickly added.

Pulling out a walkie talkie, he began speaking to his men. “Now, ze moment she goes in, ve must be right behind her, ready to attack and take advantage of ze fact zat—” he was cut off by his companion grabbing the radio out of his hand.

“Go, people, she’s in,” Feurgin Prince commanded.

* * *

The front door opened and Tatiana stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Slozhno,” Officer Carvour said, pistol pointed at her chest.

Tatiana froze. Her eyes flickered from the gun to Owen’s face to Barb and Curt in the background. _No use fighting yet; get Barb and Curt clear._

“Hello, Owen,” she said.

“Wait, you know him?” Curt said, maybe louder than necessary.

Owen glanced over his shoulder, momentarily distracted by Curt.

It was all the opening Tati needed. She lunged and knocked the gun out of his hands, kicking it across the floor to near where Barb was sitting, frozen in shock.

The two of them whirled around each other, striking so fast that Barb could barely tell who was doing what. They fought like a well-oiled machine, two old friends who’d been apart for years but found themselves falling back into the same routine like no time had passed at all.

Another person came through the door.

This one was wearing mostly black with some red accents, and holding a truly terrifying-looking automatic gun.

Barb squeaked and pointed, but neither Owen nor Tatiana seemed to notice, right up until Tati ducked under a kick from Owen and then jabbed her elbow into the man’s sternum with a sharp _crack._

“Barb, Curt, leave! Take the back door and go!” Tatiana cried as more men in red and black came through the door.

Barb shoved her chair back, then noticed something by her feet. Owen’s pistol. She grabbed it, holding it like a particularly virulent viral specimen, and then followed Curt out to the window fire escape.

There were more men in the street. They weren’t surrounded, but there was nowhere they could go without being seen.

“Curt, what do we do,” Barb whispered, tugging on Curt’s arm frantically.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I don’t— fuck! Look out!”

One of the men had started shooting.

“We just want Slozhno,” someone said. “Give her up and we’ll let you go free.”

“Now that I _know_ is a lie,” Curt muttered, still clinging onto Barb. “They say that in movies all the time and it never happens.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Barb hissed.

“...Tatiana will save us?” Curt offered.

Just as he said it, Tatiana jumped out onto the fire escape. “Stay down,” she ordered, and leapt to the ground, landing in a roll and immediately launching herself at the nearest goon.

She took them out with astonishing speed, but not completely uninjured. Barb winced as she saw a bullet graze Tati’s shoulder, and again when someone managed to bash her in the back with a rifle.

Eventually, though, the goons were all down, and Tatiana gave a thumbs-up to Curt and Barb. Then, she collapsed.

Barb rushed down and Curt followed, ready to treat Tatiana’s wounds.

“Stop right zere!”

A well-dressed man in tan and grey was pointing a gun at them.

“You,” he pointed to Barb, “vill be coming vis me. Und your friends… may stay here.”

Barb looked anxiously between Curt and Von Nazi. He jerked his gun and she gasped, then slowly started walking towards him.

“No!” Curt grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t—”

_Bang._

“Fuck!” Curt fell back, hand grasping at his shoulder.

“Curt!” Barb cried.

“Come. Here,” Von Nazi said. “Or I vill shoot him again, zis time somevere even less nice.”

“Oh god, okay, I’m coming,” Barb said, hands up and palms open. “Just don’t hurt him, _please_ don’t hurt them. I’m coming quietly, I promise.”

“Good.” He led her at gunpoint to a car, directing her to the back seat.

Owen burst out of the apartment just in time to see the car peel away, tires squealing on the pavement. He saw Curt and Tatiana lying where they’d fallen, and rushed to Curt’s side.

“Check Tati first,” Curt gasped. “She needs it more. Don’t know— what her injuries are, I’m just— gunshot wound to lateral deltoid, _fucking ow,_ hurts but I’ll survive, and, _probably going to pass out now.”_


	7. Sunday, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue.

`New Orleans, LA`

Tatiana came to on one end of Curt and Barb’s sofa. Owen was sitting at the other end, and Curt was piled onto a chair from the kitchen.

“So,” Owen finally said.

“So. I see you are still doing Cynthia’s dirty work.”

“And I see that you still don’t understand that people like us don’t get to make our own choices.”

“All I see is that you are too afraid to do anything of your own will.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m realistic. You chose to defect, and look at where you wound up. Captured. Cynthia wants you back, and she won’t stop until she gets what she wants.”

“I am not going back.” Tatiana’s voice was low, her stance tense.

Owen dropped his gaze, staring at the floor. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Can I— Can I interrupt?” Curt said.

Both Owen and Tatiana looked at him.

“Owen— can I call you Owen, calling you Officer Carvour when you know my best friend’s girlfriend is just weird— clearly you have some issues with the fact that Tatiana left the CIA or whatever super-secret black ops agency you were in together. And Tati, I understand that you’re pissed at Owen for— chasing you all over the country and trying to kidnap you and make you work for your old boss again? Do I have this right?”

“That is… an accurate summary of events, yes,” Owen said.

“But I also feel like we— you— could maybe work this out at some other time, such as when my _best friend_ has not just been _kidnapped, maybe?”_

“Yes,” said Tatiana, “I think that would be best. I will go after her; I know where she has been taken, and they will regret ever touching her.”

“Hold on,” Owen said to her. “This is still a CIA investigation.”

“Yeah, and look how well you’ve handled it so far,” Curt muttered.

Owen turned to face him. “I will admit I have made some… misjudgments, in my handling of this case. But you have to know that if Tatiana goes after Barb, she’ll probably just kill anyone that gets in her way. Do you really want that?”

“I mean, no, but I have no strong opinions against it, either. I mean, they kidnapped _Barb._ And if they did it to get to Tatiana, they’re obviously much stupider than they think they are, and they knew what they were getting into, so they kind of deserve it? And like. I’m an EMT, I see people die every day. It happens.”

Owen was taken aback by Curt’s frankness about death. 

“Then it is settled. I will be going after Barb, and Curt will stay here because he is wounded—”

“Hey, you are too! I just recognize that I can’t stop you—”

“And Owen, you may come with me, as long as you don’t betray me. If you do, I will kill you.”

“Jeez, harsh,” Curt said.

Tatiana shrugged.

Owen looked conflicted for a moment, brow furrowed, lips tight. “Oh, fuck it all. Sure, I’ll do it. Might as well get _something_ out of this whole goddamn mess, even if it’s only a crack at— whatever organization this is.”

“The Prussian-Sloviskian mob,” Tatiana provided. “Led by Feurgin Prince, largely funded by Baron Von Nazi, and yes, that is his real name. They asked me to work for them.”

“And you said…” Owen prompted.

“No, because, like I said before, I do not do anyone’s dirty work anymore.”

“You’ve been travelling around the world and killing people for what, then, the sheer joy of it?”

Tatiana looked at Owen. He held her stare. Curt kind of wished he had popcorn.

“Vengeance, if you must know. Maybe even justice. I have been killing… corrupt politicians, some businessmen. Those who enable young children to be stolen from their homes and made into weapons.” The _like I was_ went unsaid, but not unheard.

“Oh,” Owen said. “Tati… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“They are very good at hiding.”

Owen knew that was as close as she’d get to accepting his apology, so he nodded.

“Right,” he said, “we’re doing this.”

“Right now?” Curt asked.

“Yes,” Tatiana said. “Right now.”

* * *

“Lock down the premises, right now,” Feurgin ordered. “And Baron. What, exactly, were you thinking, when you decided to kidnap the girlfriend of a world-famous assassin? Bad enough that you sent Wenger after her and got _him_ arrested, without even consulting me first, but this? I’m running out of patience for your nonsense.”

Von Nazi waited until Feurgin finished his tirade. Oh, if only he knew what was in store for him! All his months of carefully laid plans were finally coming to fruition. With his loyal guard dog Wenger out of the way, Feurgin would be a sitting duck when the spitting mad Tatiana Slozhno came after her girlfriend. And then, after Feurgin was disposed of, he, Baron Von Nazi, would magnanimously release the blonde, assuring Slozhno’s loyalty to him and him only! And then they would… well, he hadn’t gotten that far yet, but it would be awesome. Everything he did was awesome, after all.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

He snapped back to awareness. “Uh. Ve are locking down ze building, sir, und you are… quite mad at me for continually misstepping in zis operation?” Little did he know that those _missteps_ were actually part of a larger, cleverer plan! Oh, he was so smart.

“Good enough,” Feurgin said. “Now get out of my sight.”

Von Nazi scurried out of the office just in time to hear gunshots from the foyer. _And so it begins!_

* * *

Barb was beginning to get sick of being tied up. The rope around her wrists chafed, and the duct tape over her mouth tugged at her skin. She had been humming, poorly, songs that she’d heard on that radio in the lab over the last few weeks, but even that was no longer enough to distract her.

She looked around. Nothing much was happening in the back room where they’d put her, but there was a commotion happening elsewhere. Gunshots. _She’s here!_

After a few more minutes, the gunshots and shouting died out. The door to the room opened.

“Barb!” Tati exclaimed. Barb responded with an enthusiastic “mmm!” through the tape.

“Here, let me…” Tati grabbed a corner of the duct tape and counted. “One, two—” and she yanked it off.

“Ow! Dirty trick!” Barb said, but she was smiling.

Tatiana made quick work of the ropes binding her, and as soon as she was free, Barb launched herself at Tatiana and kissed her square on the mouth.

“Oh!” Barb said, drawing back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask! Was that okay?”

“It was more than okay,” Tatiana said.

Barb kissed her again.

The door slammed open, and both Barb and Tati whirled to see who it was, Tatiana raising her gun, and Barb remembered the pistol she’d shoved in her pocket on the fire escape.

Baron Von Nazi was not expecting Slozhno to have killed Feurgin and found her girlfriend this quickly, but she was supposed to be the best. He had also not foreseen that Slozhno would free the blonde herself, but he was a smart man. He could adapt.

“Ah, Ms. Slozhno!” he said. “You made quite quick vork of Feurgin, vell done, vell done.”

“Who’s Feurgin?” Barb whispered to Tatiana.

“Leader of the Prussian-Sloviskian mob,” Tati whispered back.

“That’s a mouthful. And why is this guy asking about him?”

“I have no idea,” Tatiana said. “I have not even seen him.”

“I am _right here,”_ Von Nazi said. “And vhat do you mean you have not seen him? You vere supposed to kill him!”

“Ooh, a power struggle?” Barb said.

“Ugh,” Tatiana said.

“Ah, I mean, oh good, you have not gone in search of our leader and ze man who organized ze kidnapping of your love, and have not killed him, because zat is what you do, you kill people, and it would be very bad if you vere to kill him because zere would be a power vacuum in ze Prussian-Sloviskian mob, paving ze way for me to take my rightful place as zeir new leader!”

“Wow,” Barb whispered.

“I’m retired,” Tatiana said. “And I would like to take my girlfriend and go.”

Von Nazi raised a gun of his own. “Not unless you agree to vork for me after I take down Feurgin,” he said.

“You won’t have to,” Tatiana said. “There’s a CIA agent upstairs arresting him as we speak.”

“Oh, good! I mean, bad. For him. But good for me! So you must agree to vork for me starting right now, actually.”

“No, I must not, actually.”

“Yes, you must, or I vill tell ze CIA everyzing you have done for ze past four years!”

Tatiana just looked at him. “They already know. They have been following me for months. I will not work for you.”

“But… but… I have you at gunpoint! And your girlfriend! And if you do not drop your veapon, I vill… I vill… shoot her!”

Tatiana looked warily at him, but slowly lowered her gun, placing it on the ground.

“Very good.” He turned the gun on her. “Now come vis me, and nobody vill get hurt.”

She glared daggers at him. “If anything happens to her, I’ll rip you to pieces myself.”

“Aaaaah, yes, very good! You are good at zis! I feel very… intimidated already. Yes. Come,” and he waved her into the hallway, gun still pointing in her direction. He waved with his other hand at Barb, calling a jaunty “Auf wiedersehen, Tatiana’s girlfriend!” and then turned away.

Barb pulled out Owen’s pistol and shot him. Tatiana spun around and watched as he dropped like a marionette with strings cut.

“Oh!” said Barb. “That was… loud.” She put the gun down gingerly, and looked to Tatiana.

“Well,” Tatiana said. “That was much easier than I expected this to turn out being.”

“Yeah,” Barb said. “Do you wanna go home?”

“Of course,” Tatiana said.

Barb stepped over Von Nazi’s body, face pinched in distaste, and the two of them walked out of the building hand-in-hand.


	8. Sunday, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolutions.

`New Orleans, LA`

They regrouped at Barb and Curt’s apartment, where Curt was waiting with coffee and hot cocoa in hand.

“I figured you all might need it,” he said.

“Thanks, love,” Owen said, then froze.

Curt looked at him, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “You’re welcome, babe,” he said.

Owen flushed.

“You look cute when you’re flustered,” Curt said.

“All right, people,” Tatiana said. “We have dismantled the Prussian-Sloviskian mob, and rescued everyone who needs rescuing. The only question that remains is whether you—” she looked at Owen— “are planning on making this difficult by continuing in your efforts to capture me and take me back to the CIA. I must warn you, I will not come quietly.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Owen said. “And frankly… I think I’ve had enough of the CIA. Maybe you had the right idea, after all.”

“Owen Carvour admits to being mistaken? I never thought I’d see the day,” Tatiana teased.

“Yeah…” he sighed. “I think dealing with the Prussian-Sloviskians will be enough to take you off Cynthia’s shit list, so the CIA will stop pursuing you. And me… I’m tired. It’s been a long four years, chasing you in between everything else. I just want to… take some time off. Relax. Maybe…” he glanced at Curt. “...get to know some new people.”

Tatiana gave him a gentle smile. “I am glad you have… come around to understand my point of view. Leaving while you are still able, it is not the same as giving up. Choosing happiness is not quitting.”

* * *

“I’m quitting,” Owen said.

“Fuck it all, why’s it always the actually effective ones that grow a conscience, or a life? I’ve been in this business _decades_ and let me tell you, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Anyways, whatever, I don’t care, have your desk cleared out by Monday or I’m burning your shit.”

Cynthia hung up.

Owen held the phone tenderly, like a live grenade, for a moment before setting it back into its cradle.

“Well, that was… easier than I expected,” he said.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Curt said.

“What?” Owen asked, alert. He didn’t see any immediate threats, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

“I still have to call my mom and tell her… everything. God, she’s going to go ballistic.”

“About the… kidnapping, murder, and general mayhem?”

“I mean, yeah, that too,” Curt said, “but…”

Owen waited for him to continue.

Curt leaned over to him, putting his mouth right next to Owen’s ear, and whispered: “But mostly about the fact that I’ve finally met a nice boy that I want to bring home to dinner to meet her someday.”

Owen turned his head, bumping noses with Curt.

“Really?” he asked, breathless.

“Really,” Curt said, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.


	9. Postscript: 6 months later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever after.

`Suva, Fiji`

“Hey, Barb, Tati!” Curt’s voice came through the tablet’s speaker somewhat tinny.

Barb and Tati lay together on a picnic blanket in the city’s botanical gardens, soaking in the sun and eating fruit they’d picked up at the market that morning. Barb was on her stomach, propped on her elbows and looking at the tablet, while Tatiana lay on her back with her floppy pink sun-hat set on her face.

“Hi,” Barb said. “What are you up to?”

“Panicking,” Curt said casually. “Owen and I are having a six months anniversary dinner with Mom tonight. They’ve met, but he hasn’t been around her for _that_ long at a time yet, and I’m dying.”

“You’ll be fine! He loves her, you know that, right? And he loves you, no matter what.”

“Yeah, I know,” Curt said, sheepishly, “but my stomach doesn’t.”

“Poor baby,” Tatiana cooed from under her hat.

“Curt, I’m home!”

“Hey babe! Just talking with Barb and Tati, come say hi!”

Owen appeared in the frame. “Hello. How’s Fiji?”

“Oh, it’s great! Different from New Orleans, that’s for sure. Being out and about… it’s all so different from working in the lab.”

“No lab talk on your leave of absence,” Curt chided. “You are on a brain-free vacation. Go enjoy the sun some more, maybe visit a beach or something.”

“Actually,” Barb piped up, “despite the fact that it’s built on a peninsula, the nearest beach to Suva is forty miles away!”

Tatiana pulled the sun-hat off her face and turned to watch Barb with a smitten look. She wanted to shout, _listen, everyone, my girlfriend is so smart!_

“Okay, smarty-pants,” Curt said. “I have to go panic over my outfit some more, I’ll catch up with you lovebirds later. Bye!”

“Bye!” Tati and Barb chorused, waving at the camera before the tablet screen went blank.

Tatiana set her hat to the side and rolled over, propping herself up on her elbows right next to Barb, kissing her on the cheek.

“Hey there, lover girl,” she said.

“Hey sweetheart,” Barb said, grinning. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
